


The A Word

by notafamousperson



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Asexual Derek, Asexual Stiles, Asexuality, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Past Kate Argent/Derek Hale, Past Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-19 03:19:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3594366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notafamousperson/pseuds/notafamousperson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'd never even heard of the word before. Didn't even know that something like that existed.</p><p>Derek didn't know that there was a word to describe him other than broken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The A Word

**Author's Note:**

> Please read the tags before reading. I played around with the Derek/Kate relationship a little, and in this story she did more than just statutory rape.

He'd never even heard of the word before. Didn't even know that something like that existed.

Derek didn't know that there was a word to describe him other than broken.

His whole life, he'd thought that there was something wrong with him. He spent his early teenage years waiting for that feeling that everyone else seemed to be getting, the one that was constantly the topic of conversation. He pretended like he was excited by the same things as the other guys his age so no one would know that he didn't feel the same way. He acted like everyone else, even though he wasn't normal.

He tried to bring it up with his mom, but she shot him down, told him that he'd feel differently when he was older. She said that he would grow up and find a wife, have kids, make the pack bigger. He didn't bother to tell her that he didn't want that, because he knew what the answer would be.

_You will when you're older._

Then, he met Kate. She was beautiful in the way that most boys his age would go crazy over; she had curves, long, tan legs, flowing blonde hair, full lips, and confidence that amplified her positive qualities and downplayed her negative ones. And she, for some reason, was interested in him. Derek saw it as an opportunity to fix himself. Surely if he dated someone like her, eventually he would enjoy it. Right?

He never enjoyed it. Every time she set a hand on his thigh, told him what she planned to do to him that night, he knew he was broken. He wasn't having the right reactions, the ones Kate expected from a normal person. So he faked it. He pretended like sex with her was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Kate could see right through him, though, and she confronted him about it. Derek didn't know what to do; he was humiliated. She offered to teach him how to be normal, how to enjoy sex the way he was supposed to.

***

"Don't you worry, sweetie. I can fix you," Kate purred, running a finger along his jaw. She straddled his lap and put her hands on his shoulders, leaning forward and latching onto his lips. She moved her hips, undulating against his groin. "Here's where you're supposed to moan, babe."

"I-I don't– Can we do this later? I don't want to–" Derek stammered, trying to pull away. Kate shushed him, cut him off with a finger to the lips.

"Of course you do. Any other guy your age would jump at the opportunity to do this. You want to be normal, don't you, sweetie?" Kate asked him.

"Y-yeah, I do," replied Derek, voice wavering. Kate smirked at him and lifted his shirt up from the hem.

When it was all over, Derek wasn't anywhere near fixed. He felt like crying, the thought of ever having sex again making him physically ill to the point where he was dry heaving over the edge of the bed. Kate left without comforting him, stopping only once in the doorway to tell him that she would be back the next night.

***

Asexual.

A person who has no sexual feelings or desires.

The word described him to a tee. Derek was asexual. He didn't know how he was supposed to feel, now that he had finally, after so many years, figured out what was wrong with him.

Should he go thank Stiles for introducing him to the word, ask him questions? Stiles was asexual– that's what he'd told Derek yesterday– and he'd said to come to him if he had questions.

***

Stiles was walking towards the door of the loft, heart hammering against his chest. He was nervous, for some reason. Derek walked over to the door, opening it before Stiles could knock. He looked surprised for a second before his lips turned up and he rolled his eyes.

Derek stepped out of the way as Stiles pushed his way into the loft, hands shoved into his pockets. He was jittery, trying to look relaxed, but his posture was too stiff for him to actually be calm. Even if his heart wasn't beating twice as hard as usual, his body would still give him away.

"What's wrong?" Derek asked.

"What? Nothing's wrong. I'm good, like, really good. Great, actually. Nothing to worry about," Stiles rambled, walking into Derek's kitchen. "Got anything good?"

"Stiles."

He deflated with a sigh. "Okay, fine. We need to talk, is that okay?"

Derek nodded slowly, confused. Stiles walked past him and into the den, plopping down on the couch. Derek followed, sitting on the opposite side.

"Okay, so. I'm asexual. Pretty dumb of me to tell you, I know, but I'm kinda coming out to everyone. Scott suggested I tell you, kind of to practice for when I tell my dad, and I hate to admit it, but it was a pretty good idea," Stiles explained, oblivious to Derek's confusion.

"Wait, Stiles."

Stiles raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, dude?" He grimaced. "You're not about to be an asshole, are you? Because I will not hesitate to kick your ass."

Derek shook his head. "No, just– what does that mean, that you're asexual?"

"Oh, you don't know what–" Stiles cut himself off. "It means I don't do the sex. Simple as that."

Derek looked at him in disbelief. "But you always smell like–"

"Hey, I said I didn't have sex, not that I didn't– you know," Stiles protested, making a fist and pumping it up and down.

"Oh," Derek muttered, a blush coloring his cheeks.

"Yeah. So. This is getting awkward, so I'm gonna leave," Stiles stated, pointing a thumb towards the door of the loft. Derek nodded, distracted, and Stiles stood up. "Just, uh. I don't know, let me know if you have any other questions, I guess? I don't mind answering them."

Derek nodded once. Stiles stood there for a minute longer, looked like he was about to say something, but then shook his head and walked to the door. "See you later, dude."

"Bye, Stiles."

***

Derek knocked on Stiles' window before he could talk himself out of it. He could see Stiles sitting at his computer desk, and his head shot up when he heard the noise. As he opened the window, he whisper-shouted, "Do you have a vendetta against using front doors?! Seriously, dude! I don't think you realize how creepy it is for you to be climbing in through the window! And it's especially a bad idea, you know, given the fact that _my dad's the sheriff!_ "

Derek ignored him, sitting down in Stiles' computer chair. Stiles closed his window, glared with no heat behind it and plopped on his bed. "Need me to research something? What is it?"

"No," Derek responded. He tried to tell him, but actually saying it out loud was much harder than he expected it to be. This was the scariest thing he'd ever had to do. No wonder Stiles was so nervous yesterday. "I– I'm..."

Stiles raised his eyebrows. "You're..."

Derek let out a shaky breath, attempting to compose himself. Somehow, it made it worse. "I think I'm a– a..."

"You're a what, dude? Oh my god, you weren't poisoned again, were you? You look kinda pale, and you're all sweaty– Oh god, where's the bullet wound? I'll call Scott, dude, just hold on– " Stiles rambled, pulling out his phone.

"No, Stiles," Derek forced out. Stiles looked at him, eyes wide. Like he cared about Derek. He thought that Derek was poisoned, and he was worried. The situation was completely different than when they had just met, when Stiles was wishing for his death, when he hated his guts. He cared, and there was no reason for Derek to be nervous. So why did he still feel like he was going to be sick? "I think I'm asexual, too."

Derek let out a heavy breath, sinking down into the chair. Stiles gaped. The longer Stiles stared at him, the more Derek began to regret telling him. It was stupid for him to think that Stiles would want to help him. Why would Stiles even care? The only reason he'd even told Derek was to practice telling his dad. Stiles probably wanted to laugh at him; it'd been so much harder for Derek, the alpha werewolf, to come out to someone than it had been for Stiles.

"Derek!" Stiles yelled, and Derek's head snapped up. It was clear that it wasn't the first time Stiles had called his name. "Thank you for telling me. Do you want to talk about it?"

His tone was completely different, now, like he was walking on eggshells. He was using his therapist voice, the one he used when Scott first shifted and would lose control. Derek didn't need that, he was _completely_ in control, he–

His claws were stuck in Stiles' computer chair. He quickly retracted them, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "Sorry," he muttered, looking away.

"It's fine. You good, now?" Stiles asked.

Derek nodded, glaring at the carpet. "Sorry, I don't know why I lost control. I never lose control, I shouldn't– "

"Derek, man, it's _okay_. You were freaked out, it happens. Don't apologize. You wouldn't blame me for having a panic attack, would you?" Stiles questioned.

"But you _didn't_. You told me with no problem. I couldn't even–" Derek cut himself off with a growl.

"And I didn't have any bad experiences because of who I am," Stiles gently reasoned. Derek looked at him, eyes wide. Was he talking about–? How did he–?

"She did bad things to you, Derek. It's okay to be a little fucked up about it. You don't have to pretend like it didn't happen," Stiles spoke, voice soft. He then added, "And it's not your fault that it did."

Derek stared at him, eyes wide, lips parted. Something shattered in him as what Stiles said sank in. He'd spent years– _years_ , thinking that he was wrong, that he killed his family and drove his uncle insane because of who he was. He never once made the connection that it was Kate's fault, fully placing the blame on himself. Not once had anyone even _told_ him that it wasn't his fault.

Arms wrapped around him, and he stiffened. He wiped the back of his hand over his eyes and was surprised when it came back wet. Stiles squeezed harder, and Derek slowly relaxed into the hug.

Stiles pulled away from him and sat back on the bed. Derek couldn't find the words to thank him, so he remained silent.

"So, you have questions?" Stiles asked.

Derek nodded.

"Lay 'em on me, then," Stiles replied, clapping his hands together and resting his elbows on his knees.

Derek spent the rest of the night asking questions, and Stiles answered all of them as best as he could. When Stiles got sick of answering questions and Derek had none left, Stiles pulled out his laptop and played a movie. Derek stood up to leave, but Stiles stopped him.

"Whoa, dude! You're leaving?" asked Stiles. Derek nodded slowly, taking another step towards the window.

"But this is the best movie in existence! You can't leave!" Stiles protested. He grabbed the sleeve of Derek's jacket and attempted to pull him away from the window. Derek didn't budge. "C'mon, Derek. Just one movie. When's the last time you watched a movie, anyways?"

Derek rolled his eyes and sighed, ignoring Stiles' question. "Fine."

Stiles cheered, scooting over to one side of his bed. He patted the vacated spot, and Derek hesitated.

"Hurry up! You don't wanna miss the opening, or you'll be lost for like, the entire movie," Stiles told him. Derek shrugged off his jacket and tossed it in Stiles' computer chair. He sat next to Stiles, and Stiles scooted right against his side, setting the laptop on their thighs.

Derek grew bored with the movie, and, halfway through, he began to drift off. Stiles was still watching with rapt attention, commenting on a part of the movie every five minutes.

When he woke, the light was off and Stiles was asleep on his shoulder, his laptop on the floor. The Sheriff was home, in what was presumably his bedroom. Derek moved Stiles' head to his pillow and untangled himself from the comforter. He grabbed his jacket and shrugged it on, making his way to the window, when Stiles' voice stopped him.

"Why're y' leavin'?" he slurred, sitting up and rubbing a hand across his face. "It's–" he squinted at his clock, "2:37, y' could just stay."

"Your dad's home. Go back to sleep," Derek instructed, a foot on the windowsill.

Stiles whined, and Derek sighed, "I can't stay."

"Least gimme a goodbye kiss," Stiles grumbled, eyes slipping closed.

Derek's heart stopped. Stiles didn't know what he was saying, Derek reasoned. He was basically asleep. But even so...

He walked over to Stiles, smoothed his hair back, and kissed his forehead, a slight brush of his lips, barely there. "Goodnight, Stiles," he murmured, pulling slowly away. Stiles' eyes were wide open, his mouth parted.

"Dude," Stiles breathed, his heart beating out a rhythm twice as fast as its usual.

"Go to bed," Derek repeated sternly. He climbed up onto the sill of the window and leaped down to the lawn below.

***

Stiles came over the next day, his laptop in hand. They spent the whole day on Derek's couch, watching action movie after action movie, and, after finally agreeing on toppings (meaning Derek finally relented and let Stiles get whatever he wanted), they ordered a pizza.

"So, uh," Stiles began as he stood by Derek's door. "This was fun. Do you, uh. Any chance you wanna do it again sometime? I mean, I know I'm not–"

Derek grabbed Stiles by the shoulders and kissed him. He didn't drag out the kiss, left it short and sweet. "Yes, Stiles. I'd love to go on another date with you."

Stiles' cheeks colored. "This wasn't– It's not– not because you're asexual too, I mean, I genuinely like you. Like, I've had a crush on you for like, _forever_ , and– and I'm going to stop talking now, oh my god."

Derek huffed out a laugh. "I'll see you tomorrow, Stiles."

"Yeah, tomorrow. That's good. Tomorrow. The day after today. Cool," Stiles said, nodding to himself.

"Go home, Stiles."

"Okay, will do!" Stiles called to Derek's retreating back. Derek rolled his eyes, even though Stiles couldn't see, a small smile on his lips.


End file.
